Strife/Issue 05
Issue 05 is the fifth issue of Volume 01 of Strife, It was written by CamTheWoot and was published on June 29th, 2014. ---- Issue 05 Previous: Issue 04 Next: Issue 06 ---- Patrick ---- "Wait, what?" Larson, stumbled backwards in confusion. "Pat, are you fucking serious?" "Yeah, yeah I am." He replied, his long face looked more solemn than before. "He has know idea how serious I am." "So, no chance I'm going to know why you're doing this?" "Sorry, but no." The smug grin Patrick was used to seeing plastered all over Larson's face was gone now. He let out a great sigh, "Fine, I'll help you. Then we're even right? 'Cos you're gonna have to stitch me up after this shit." "Yes, then we're even." "Ugh, fucking fine." He grumbled, still trying to whisper. If anyone heard what they were scheming it would be over, they'd be getting Vincent's treatment, locking in a cell. "Get in position then. I don't have all day." Patrick crept up against the same wall he'd been spying on earlier, waiting Mitch and Jess. Larson looked around before impudently walking towards them. "Come on Larson, please don't screw this up." He watched him and Mitch argue for a few minutes, several curses towards each other could be heard before Larson took a swipe at Mitch, that he immediately dodged. Mitch moved to the side, locking Larson's neck under his arm and kneeing him in the groin repeatedly. Eventually Larson fell to his knee's he was then hit with the back of Mitch's rifle, all the while Jess was trying to get him to calm down. He grasped the young lad by his collar and dragged him towards Rowena office, Larson using the last of his strength to give Patrick a thumbs up, Jess of course, followed the two of them. "Sorry man," Patrick mumbled to himself. "We're even now." Patrick sneaked over to the entrance of the supply tower and ascended yet another spiraling staircase. At the top he found himself in the supply room Wayne and Duncan were in before, even he could tell. The reek of Tobacco clung to the two of them like perfume, ever now and then it would be another smell Patrick didn't recognize, The Mitchell's would be in an unusually good mood when they had that reek about them. Patrick approached a huge collection of four galleon water bottles, each labeled with the name of the person they'd be rationed to every fortnight. After a few minutes of looking he eventually found one labeled Vincent Myers, he reached into his pocket and grinned. ---- Vincent ---- There was an awkward silence in the room, the two brother had stood completely still for a few minutes both trying to get a grip on the situation. It had started to rain now, only a drizzle, but as Rook predicted it would soon be pouring. That ever so slight rain and Lawrence's shaking were the only noises in that room, he teeth for chattering, he could hardly hold his gun straight. "This is fucking pathetic," Vincent mumbled to himself in amusement. "What did you just say?!" Lawrence screamed, trying his best to sound intimidating, although Vincent could tell that he suspected it wasn't working. Vincent let out and almost embarrassed sigh, sarcastic with a hint of laughter underneath it. "What are you going to do Lawrence?" He said with a grin. "Shoot me?!" He spoke with a sardonic overtone of forced fear, mocking his brother as best he could. "Put the bloody gun down Lawrence, you're embarrassing both of us." "No Vincent," he shook. "You know very well what's in that box." "So I got a little obsessive over your case, who cares. No need to be rude about it, calling me a monster and pointing things at me. Is that how Dad raised you?" "No, no, NO" Lawrence screamed again, this time it was genuine, fit of rage from being so clearly lied to. "This is not an unhealthy obsession with the Greensleeves murders Vincent. This is - this is sick. This is FUCKING INCRIMINATING! If we found this during the case, you would have been arrested on the spot!" "Well then it's a good fucking thing no one found it then, 'eh?" Vincent laughed, he leant against the oak table in his kitchen, with the small iron lock-box on it. "I might have been in a right load trouble." "You are right now," Lawrence enforced, his shaking had almost stopped. Vincent had picked up that Lawrence had become considerably more comfortable with the idea of pointing a gun at his brother. "Vincent I'm going to ask you once and once only... Are you a murderer?" Vincent chuckled, wiping the sweat from his brow. "We're all murderers Lawrence, don't act like you've never pulled a trigger on a man, because I know you have." "Don't fuck around Vincent! Are you - The Greensleeves murderer? Did you kill all those people? BRODMIR'S DAUGHTER?" "Let me answer your question with a question: If I said no, would you believe me?" "I- I don't know Vincent." He sobbed with a tear in his eye. "I don't fucking know, just... tell me you didn't. Please, just look me in the eyes and tell me this is all a mistake." Sure enough Vincent did just that, he slowly approached his brother, until there was only two feet between them, Lawrence lowered his gun as he approached. "Lawrence, this is a mistake, I didn't do this." Lawrence was stunned almost unable to speak, the rain had picked up now into a full storm, almost as if it was entwined with his emotions, Vincent turned around and walked away from him, back to where he was standing before. "I don't believe you." Those words echoed throughout the place, stopping Vincent dead in his tracks. The only time Lawrence had actually seen Vincent shaken, more than that, he looked ill, white as a Ghost. Like if you touched him he would shatter. HE placed his hand onto the table to stabilize himself, before braking into hysterics. "YOU'VE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME?!" He screamed over his laughter. "THIS MUST BE SOME KIND OF JOKE?! SOME SCHEME?!" His laughter was loud and rung with insanity, like he'd been holding it in for years, it was high pitched and it last for what seemed like hours. "This is stupid!" He growled with his hair stuck to his face with sweat. "This must be some inane joke? Some insolent prank? Or is this Rowena, finally finding a way to get rid of me?" "This is no prank, just admit it." "So, you asking me to proclaim my innocence? What was that?!" "I wanted to see if you would lie to my face." He spoke in a way difference than before, hurt and monotone, he cared for Vincent but was trying his best not to show it. Vincent gave out a final high pitched titter, before slowly standing upright, asserting his height over Lawrence. A flash of lightning blazed through the window, silhouetting Vincent for only a second. Vincent grinned displaying a row of broken yellow teeth ordered in a sadistic grin. "Fine," he snarled. "It's me, I did it and I enjoyed it immensely." He mocked him as he said it, speaking in the most sarcastic way possible. "Now what are you going to do, eh? Shoot me? Well fucking do it." He raised out his arms and forced his chest foreword. "Imagine a target there and open fire, go on!" "I don't want to shoot you!" Lawrence wailed with tears running down his cheek. "Then why bring this up, eh? Did you not think this over? What was your big plan going in? Was there even a plan?" "You think I intended to end up here?!" Lawrence rasped, spitting across the room. "That fucking horde brought me here, I wish I could go back and unsee all of it, but I can't. I can't ignore it!" "This is stupid, you can sit here and tell me I'm evil until the horde clears, but what will that accomplish?" Vincent pointed at Lawrence's lowered hand, seeing that he was only just holding onto his revolver. "Point that thing at me and fire it, or shut up and sit down, just don't patronize me by acting like I'm not safe to be around. I've been perfectly safe for the last seven months." Lawrence slowly raised his gun and pointed it at his brother. Vincent closed his eyes and slowly raised his arms to his side, creating a target for him once again. The gun shook in his hand, like it was controlling himself. Lawrence looked like he was sweating an ocean, sweating and crying, his skin was flushed and his arms were weak. "I," he muttered. "I- I can't." He dropped then gun on the floor and fell against the window gasping for air. Vincent smiled and leant against the counter. "Well then God for that," he exhaled with relief. "You know, I never said this could be forgotten, when we get back I'm going to have to tell Rowena. We abolished the death penalty for a reason, you're going to sit in your cell like you would have before." He knelt over and reached for his gun, picking it up and putting it back in it's holster. He leant his arm on his knee and rested him forehead in his hand, naturally Vincent left his sight. "I can't kill my brother, I could never do that." Vincent's smug grin left his face, replaced with a look of fear and grief. He turned around to the lockbox on the table and picked it up in his right hand. "Good," he muttered, slowly approaching Lawrence. "But I might have to," with that he swung the box at Lawrence, smashing it against the side of his head, he fell to the floor, holding his wound with one hand. Vincent unsheathed his short-sword, the polished steel shined in Lawrence's eyes as his brother slowly approached him. "I'm sorry Lawrence," he said raising the blade in the air above. He felt a kick at his ankle, sounding a load crack, sending him careening towards the ground. His blade fell away from him, close to the entrance to Vincent's bedroom, on the other side of the kitchen. Lawrence began to crawl towards it, but felt Vincent pull him back towards him. In response he swiftly kicking into Vincent's face, breaking the left lens in his spectacles. "You fucking prick!" Vincent, gargled spitting blood onto the floor. He climbed over Lawrence legs, and slammed his elbow into Lawrence's spine, who gasped from the paint. Vincent placed both hands onto the back Lawrence's head and smashed it into the floor, again and again, much like his brother's moments before, Lawrence's glasses broke and fell off. Eventually Lawrence gained the upper hand, crashing his bare knuckle into his brothers jaw, sending him flying towards the kitchen counter. He quickly got up and ran for the sword, while Lawrence pulled out his gun and pointed it at him, Vincent flung a chair over at him while he ran, disturbing his adversaries line of fire and knocking the gun from his hand. Vincent picked up the sword and ran towards Lawrence, who in turn pulled the carpet from underneath him, Vincent fell backwards onto the floor and his sword escaped his sight, all he could see now was his brothers revolver next to the closed door. He got himself up and ran for it, Lawrence grabbed his leg, yet again causing him to plummet, he kept a hold of his leg and dragged him backwards. Their roles had switch placed from before, Vincent stopped him from dragging him back, by placing his foot onto Lawrence's face, slowly breaking his nose as he forced against him. "I'VE WORKED TOO HARD LAWRENCE!" He screamed, with blood pouring from his mouth "YOU'RE NOT TAKING MY LIFE FROM ME!" Eventually Lawrence let go, holding his face in pain as his brother race towards the door on all fours. The door what opened and the gun was gone, all Vincent could see was a familiar pair of black army boots, he looked up to see Nancy standing above him with the revolver in hand. "What the hell is going on here?" ---- Rook ---- Only a few meters away, Rook, Wayne and Duncan held up in an abandoned corner shop, Vincent's flat was visible through the hastily boarded up windows on the side, as was the horde. Although the pouring rain made it difficult. Rook was attempting to look through, to possibly see Vincent or Nancy, hell even Lawrence appear. Wayne and Duncan however, were giggling over in the corner, throwing an empty tin can back and forth to each other. "How old are you two, four?" Rook whispered. "You'll attract the horde, sit still and please be quiet." "Yeah, yeah. We know mate." Wayne sneered. "So, I wonder where Nancy pissed off to then?" Duncan questioned. "If she wasn't such a feisty bitch, I might even be worried 'bout her." "Eh, probably ran off to find her love in life, I bet 'er and Vince are out kissin' in the moonlight." "Nah, that don't make sense, it's like... midday?" "You know what I mean, arsehat." Wayne growled, throwing the can at Duncan's head. "Seriously though, I really hope they're right and all. They're a good lot." "Aah they will be, them pricks are as tough as nails. WAIT NO! That's flattery to the nails." "God will you two be quiet?" Rook said, trying hard to whisper. "There are maybe a hundred shadows on our arses, you want to draw them?" Wayne sighed and winked at Duncan, who immediately lobbed the can over at him. Wayne chuckled as he threw it at Rook, who in turn caught it in his left hand. He grinned at them as he threw it ban twice as hard, hitting Wayne in the chest. "Aw you bastard," said Wayne, nursing his new bruise on his ribs. "I deserved that." "Yes you did," Rook silently chuckled, before a long sigh. "Some part of me thinks that they're not doing alright, lads. I've seen those two go through so much and always come out at the end perfectly clean, but I'm not sure this time. Their has to be and end to everything, including their lucky streak." ---- Vincent ---- Vincent managed to get onto his feet, grinning away at Nancy's arrival. Lawrence laid behind him, he moved his hand to his face and with a great CLICK, he snapped his nose beck into position. Planing his hand onto the fallen chair in front of him, he got himself on two feet. "Nancy please," he said, gasping for air. "You don't understand, Vincent is the Greensleeves murderer." Nancy staggered backwards in shock as Lawrence walked past Vincent and slowly approached her. "My- he killed my-?" "Yes Nancy, he did. I'm sorry but he did." He held his hand out to her. "Give me the gun." Like a scarred little girl, she put the barrel of the revolver into her hand and held the handle out to Lawrence. "Nancy don't you dare," Vincent growled as Lawrence approached her, grabbing the handle. With a sudden tug, Nancy pulled Lawrence towards her, she grabbed her knife from the back of her belt and forced it into Lawrence's gut, twisting it as she grinned at Vincent. "Oh honey, I know." She whispered into his ear as he let out a painful whimper. "I've known all along, I suppose in that regard you could call me... an accomplice." To be continued... ---- Characters ---- Vincent Myers Maurice Rook Patrick Myers Lawrence Myers Nancy Brodmir Wayne Mitchell Duncan Mitchell Larson Mitch Jess Rowena Myers (Mentioned) ---- Deaths None. ---- Trivia Vincent Myers is revealed to be the Greensleeves murderer in this issue. This issue is a re-write of Strife/Issue 05 (Original). Category:Issues Category:Strife Issues Category:Strife Category:Pestilence Category:CamTheWoot